The S Word
by Lahiwe
Summary: "That brings me to the one thing I can't talk to Bryce about, hence the 'almost' anything. Despite his willingness to discuss nearly every topic under the sun, there is one word that leaves him tongue-tied."


**A/N: For those of you who are following my other Flipped story, _Two Parts One Whole, _this is an accompaniment to that story, although the resolution implied in this story will likely not be present in the other. Since I've been in college, I haven't been able to put a lot of time towards planning _Two Parts One Whole, _but I was dying to write a Juli-Bryce story and this is what came out. As a warning, there is mature content towards the end, but nothing explicit. I hope you enjoy!**

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><p>There are a million reasons why I'm glad to have Bryce Loski in my life. He's sweet, and self-sacrificing to a fault. His practicality balances out my tendency toward the dramatic (I won't even try to count the number of times he's calmed me down during my all-too-common freakouts about grades!). He can keep me laughing for ages, even when I know I shouldn't be (when he makes fun of our senior English teacher's extremely snobbish use of archaic vocabulary behind his back, it's all I can do to keep tears from my eyes). He always encourages me to go for what I want, regardless of how insecure I feel. But I think the very best thing about our relationship is the fact that we can talk about almost anything.<p>

It's not exactly a secret that my interests are…slightly out of the box. Chicken farming, for example, is not exactly something you would find advice about in _Seventeen_ magazine. I guess it comes from being raised in an eccentric family—all of us are into some of the craziest things, and when we share our ideas, the pool of uncommon tastes is increased. I've taken on my dad's devotion to art and philosophy, my mom's love of old-fashioned crafts, and my brothers' obsession with indie music, and I'm pretty sure they've all inherited at least a little bit of my _very_ enthusiastic relationship with nature. Unfortunately, in my town at least, all of those things that I think make my family special are just more evidence of our weirdness. But with Bryce, it doesn't matter how random the topic, or how little he knows about it. He's always interested in what I have to say.

In some ways, I know he considers it making up for lost time. We spent a long time barely able to speak more than a sentence to each other, after all. But more so than that, Bryce is just a really _thoughtful _person, underneath his sarcastic exterior. He genuinely wants to see things from all perspectives and learn as much as he can (which is a lot more than I can say for most people). So, whether it's boycotts or bird species, music festivals or modern art, I always know he'll be up for a lively debate. It can get a little heated sometimes since we're both as stubborn as stuck mules, but never anything that can't be patched up with a few long bouts of very apologetic kissing.

….actually, that brings me to the one thing I _can't _talk to Bryce about. I did say "almost" anything. Despite his willingness to discuss nearly every topic under the sun, there is one word that leaves him tongue-tied.

"Bryce, do you think that sex is meaningful in and of itself, or does it gain its significance from the relationship that you have with the person you're having sex with?"

That was the first time I ever asked Bryce about the dreaded s-word. It was sophomore year, and despite being years into puberty, I had only just started becoming interested in that infamous part of human experience. My family had always been really free in showing affection (probably why I was so interested in that kiss at the tender age of seven), and my parents never told me sex was bad—just one of many ways of showing your love to someone you cared about. However, in high school, I was confronted with a very different attitude about intimacy. It was seen as something dirty, but pleasurable in a reckless, sinful way. My peers seemed to use it as a currency, either for gaining some sort of social status, or proving how much of a rebel they were. It was part of the initiation into the taboos of adulthood, complete with dirty pictures in magazines and whispered rumors about breast enhancements and flavored condoms; much different than the picture my parents had painted for me, a weighty act that was a sort of baptism, two halves becoming a whole.

Meanwhile, my already passionate feelings for Bryce were becoming increasingly…well…erotic. I often caught myself staring at him, wondering how his skin would feel pressed against mine, what kind of sensations could come from him touching me here—no, there—or better yet, _there. _It was during that time that I experienced my first period of actual embarrassment. I hadn't known I was capable of it. I wanted to explore this new world with him—perhaps not fully, not yet, anyway, but just see where it took us. I had loved him for over half my life, hadn't I? But the way that everyone around me treated sex made me feel ashamed of myself. What if Bryce thought I was some sort of nymphomaniac? After all, wasn't it the _guy_ who was supposed to want sex? And if we did go through with it, what if we both regretted it later, like so many of the people I knew? If it was so much trouble, was it really worth the momentary pleasure?

I decided that, rather than asking straight out, I'd test the waters by seeing how he felt about it. I posed it as a general philosophical question, no different from my occasional outbursts about morality or freedom of choice. It was so indirect that I wasn't expecting him to stammer and blush as if I'd just brought out a photo of him toddling around as a kid, naked as a jaybird.

"Umm…I…ah…I wouldn't know." He laughed awkwardly, then went back to work on the chemistry problem set we'd been puzzling over in my room for the past two hours. As the silence grew, and I realized he was dropping the subject, my stomach fell completely to the floor. Why did I always let my stupid big mouth get me in trouble? He was probably weirded out by the fact that I was even _thinking _about it. I could have known that Bryce, as perceptive as he was, would know I probably wasn't asking just for kicks. Did he think I was a pervert? Blushing so furiously that I could feel the heat radiating off my face, I tried to cover my tracks.

"I—I just was thinking about the—uh—prevalence of teenage pregnancies in our society. And you know, what could be the reasons why." It was plausible enough, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief at coming up with a relatively good cover story. Bryce looked relieved, too, and eagerly latched onto my excuse, not being nearly as critical of it as he normally would be.

"Oh yeah, that's a huge problem. Pretty sad. Maybe, um, not enough birth control? And the cycle of poverty, that's a big deal, too. And, uh, maybe people could be less careless about…um…sex. You thinking of writing an article about it in the school paper?"

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," I said, sticking with my story to the end, "but I don't know if I have time this month. It was just an idea I thought I'd run by you." I smiled a weak smile, while inside my heart was smashed to bits.

"Investigative reporter Juli Baker, covering the hard-hitting facts of our troubling modern times," he said playfully. "Remember us little people when you're racking up your Pulitzers, okay?" I laughed in spite of my embarrassment. I had only just discovered my desire to be a photojournalist, and Bryce had already taken it and run with it. The little lift I got at hearing his enthusiastic support was a balm for my bruised pride, but I resolved firmly to never ask Bryce about sex again unless _he _brought it up.

If I had felt ashamed of my feelings before, I now felt ten times worse after that humiliating conversation. Every time we kissed, I felt like a dirty old man fondling some unaware child. Bryce was obviously above those feelings, and he deserved better than someone who harbored a secret wish that our shirts would find their way off. Gradually, I started pulling away from him, hiding the tumultuous feelings that had overtaken me with a mask of reluctance. I tried not to make it too obvious, but I had always been pretty enthusiastic about the physical part of our relationship, and now I had completely flipped. It was only two weeks before he called me out about it. I was on one of my few visits to his new house, and he and I were playing chess in his room. I'm a really intense player of pretty much all games, but especially chess, and I hate losing. So when the game finally ended in a checkmate from Bryce, I did my usual loser routine of exaggerating how upset I was. And, also as usual, Bryce afforded me the consolation prize of a very affectionate peck on the cheek…and neck…and…

"Oh, I just remembered! I have to leave early today. My mom and I are supposed to be making minestrone tonight and there are a whole bunch of steps." It wasn't a complete lie, except that my mom had explicitly told me _not_ to hurry home, as she had all the beginning steps covered. I gave him a quick hug, ignoring the confused and hurt frown that crossed his beautiful features. I began to pack my backpack, but before I could get out the door, he interrupted me.

"Wait a sec, Juli. Are you upset with me? You seem like you're in a big hurry to get outta here. And I find it hard to believe that you're forfeiting your chess set to me." Crap, I had left the entire chess set laid out on the floor where we'd been playing! Well, there was no hiding my discomfort now.

"I'm not upset. I just—I have a cold. It's pretty gross, and I don't want you to catch it from me. That would be terrible, wouldn't it?"

His eyes narrowed. "You haven't coughed or sneezed once since you were sick last year." When I said nothing, he sighed in exasperation. "Juli, please tell me what this is all about. You've been acting like it burns you whenever I touch you. I don't—" He paused, and a wave of realization seemed to hit him. I bit my lip, terrified that he would bring up what I so desperately wanted to forget, but that was too much to hope for.

"Does this have something to do with that time you asked me about how I felt about sex a few weeks ago?"

I rushed to defend myself. "I was just—" The words died on my lips, however, as I saw his expression soften into one of understanding. This was Bryce I was talking to. No matter how much I had offended him, I knew he still loved me, and we'd make things better just like always.

"Yeah." It came out as a cracked whisper. "I just…I was thinking about it…how maybe we could…not necessarily now, but in general, but I saw how you reacted to it, and it makes me feel weird when we're kissing or even just touching, because I want…more than you." I laughed to hide the forlorn tone my voice had slipped into. "You must think I'm such a freak."

To my surprise, rather than the gentle reprimand I was expecting—Bryce had the tendency to do that from time to time—he scoffed with disdain.

"If anyone's a freak when it comes to this kind of stuff, it's _me. _And I'm so sorry for making you feel like that. I'm just being immature." He shook his head and glared at his sneakers in frustration. This was not a turn of events I had been expecting. Why was he pulling the blame on himself? As far as I could tell, he was just being sensible and practical like he always was.

"I don't really see how not wanting to have sex makes you a freak, Bryce. In fact, it seems pretty responsible."

"But that's not the reason. I mean, that's part of the reason…what I mean is…oh God, this is embarrassing…"

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, you know. It's not _that_ important. Just forget I ever mentioned it."

"No, it _is _important. To you and to me. It's not really that I don't want to. I'm just…not ready yet." His voice dropped to a mumble as the last sentence came out, and he couldn't seem to meet my eyes. "It's not like I don't ever think about it, or that I don't want to, but the idea of actually going through with it...I don't know. It's kind of frightening. And I don't want to do it and then feel bad about it afterwards. Or, even worse, _during._" He shuddered, then sighed. "Sorry I'm the lamest boyfriend on the planet."

"Bryce, come on. Would a beautiful, smart, and talented person like me keep you around if you were the lamest boyfriend on the planet?" I grinned and flipped my hair dramatically. Just as I was hoping, he laughed aloud.

"I don't know, man, you could just be keeping me around out of pity. Or for all I know, someone's paying you for this..."

"Bryce Loski, you cut that out right _now!_" I said in mock indignation, rushing into his arms and tackling him to the floor. He let out a huff at the unexpected impact, then laughed as he looked into my mischief-brightened eyes.

"This part of the deal? You date me, then you kill me?"

"_Nooooooo," _I crooned, bursting into hysterical laughter. I collapsed on top of him, and we stayed like that for a little while, feeling the echo of each other's laughs and heartbeats. Finally it subsided, and as the look in his eyes became more serious, I felt that new feeling of desire swell up within me like the rising notes of a symphony. I snuggled deeper into his shoulder, craving more of this shared closeness, and shivered as I felt his fingers brush my arms up and down. His gentle touches never failed to bring goosebumps to my skin.

"I don't mind waiting for you," I murmured into his neck, punctuating my remark with a kiss just below his ear.

"I promise you, Juli, one day I'll be ready for it. And it'll be great." I felt his smile next to my cheek, and at that moment, I felt like the most loved person in the entire world.

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><p>Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, or at least an interlude. That summer was the summer that Bryce and I slowly, but inexorably began to grow apart. He was cracking under the pressure of pleasing his dad by doing a job he hated, but he couldn't seem to just stand up to his dad. It was a character flaw Bryce had possessed for as long as I had known him. In middle school, I had mistaken it as cowardice, and perhaps there's an element of that in it. But I think the real reason is just that Bryce hates making people he cares about unhappy with him. He's willing to compromise his entire being to make sure they still approve of him. That was why he'd laughed along with Garrett all those years ago, despite his true feelings about my uncle David. It was why he'd never climbed up in my sycamore with me, no matter how much he secretly wanted to. And it was why his dad continued to hold so much power over him.<p>

At the time, however, I wasn't nearly as understanding. As junior year began and he became more sullen and depressed, not to mention distant from me, I felt only anger. Was he really willing to sacrifice his happiness _and _mine just to please his jerk of a father? As the months passed and his behavior failed to change, I came to the conclusion that this was exactly the case. So I made a really, really foolish decision. I broke up with him. I told myself it was because I couldn't let him keep rolling over for Rick Loski, but if I'm being honest, I know it was more because I was jealous. Jealous of Bryce's dad, of all people! Both Bryce and my family always teased me about my jealous streak, but that day when it reared its ugly head, it truly made a mess of things.

Looking back, maybe it was for the best. But the rest of junior year felt like the worst months of my entire life. Being the very prideful person that I am, I ignored Bryce whenever he so much as tried to catch my eye. If I appeared sympathetic at all, I reasoned, he might think I wasn't serious. I spent so much time _not _paying attention to him that I didn't notice that he never hung out with our friends anymore. That he spent most of his time alone. And that my former best friend, Amanda, was rapidly becoming the cure to his loneliness.

No matter how much I try, I can't stay angry at Amanda for what happened, or Bryce either. I know they're both vulnerable people who crave affection, and I had left them both out in the cold. I didn't try to resurrect my friendship with Amanda after she got absorbed into the popular girls' clique, and I didn't acknowledge Bryce's existence for over three months. In a way, it's probably good they had each other, since I was too immature to be there for them. But when I first saw them together that spring, his fingers running softly through her gleaming red hair as she rested her head against his shoulder, I felt sick. He was supposed to love _me! _He was supposed to always be there for _me! _I thought about the orchid he'd left at my locker a couple months before, with a little note tied to it, and felt the worst mix of anger and shame imaginable. And Amanda—she and I had practically been sisters! She knew how much I loved Bryce. How could she take him away from me? I felt betrayed by them and disgusted with myself. For the next eight months, stretching into the beginning of my senior year, I became a bitter shell of my former lighthearted self, and as I watched Bryce and Amanda grow closer, a jealous fear arose in me: what if he had been ready—with _her? _They had been dating for almost a year, after all. What if the beautiful boy I had waiting for my entire life had shared the experience I treasured with someone else? The thought was too much to bear.

Thankfully, I grew up that year, and Bryce did as well. We both realized that we weren't being true to ourselves. It was hard for Bryce to face up to his dad, but I think it was even harder for him to break up with Amanda. He had grown to care about her a lot more than I like thinking about even today. It hurt her badly, and even though things are a lot better between the three of us now, I still hate that my and Bryce's mistakes caused pain not only to ourselves, but someone we both held dear. I'll always feel that Bryce and I are meant to be together, but I no longer take for granted that nothing will ever come between us.

It took a long time to rebuild the trust between us, and during that time, intimacy was the farthest thing from my mind. I just wanted to make sure that I showed Bryce how much I loved him, and that I would always try to help him rather than abandoning him when things grew rocky. I was so caught up in reconnecting with him, not to mention applying to college, that when Valentine's season rolled around, I almost forgot about the holiday completely.

"So, what are you and Brycie-boy's plans for Friday?" Cynthia said one day while we were editing headshot photos of her that I had taken for her acting portfolio. I love my friend Cynthia, but she is the queen of nosiness. This, however, was out there even for her. Even if he and I did have a date planned, it wasn't going to be anything special or different from all the other dates we'd had for the past four years.

"Umm…nothing? I just thought I'd hang out at home and rest, maybe do some reading. Senior year is driving me absolutely nuts!"

Her jaw dropped as if I'd said some sort of foul swear word. Then she frowned.

"Come off it, Jules, I know you aren't gonna be sitting home reading _Pride and Prejudice _for the millionth time on Valentine's Day, no matter how swoon worthy Mr. Darcy is. Don't hide the details from your bestie."

Valentine's Day was on _Friday? _It was Monday right now! I hadn't planned anything, I hadn't gotten a gift, I hadn't—

"Wait. WAIT. Are you and Bryce going to DO IT this weekend? AHHHHH!" She shrieked with excitement, and threw her arms around me. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this! You and he should've gotten it on from day one! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, you're gonna love it! When Eric and I first did it, it was a little awkward, but you and him are so comfortable with each other—"

"Cynthia. CYNTHIA," I said sharply, trying to jolt her from her frenzy. "Bryce and I aren't having sex this weekend. We didn't even have a date planned…I guess he forgot about it, too. Things have been kinda stressful lately." The disappointed puppy-dog look in her eyes would have been funny if I hadn't felt the exact same way.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I should have figured that…guess I can be pretty thoughtless sometimes. But try to have _some _fun on Valentine's Day, okay? Even if it means buying a box of chocolate and eating the whole thing in one sitting. Not that it would affect you, with your anti-fat superpowers_,_" she said playfully, poking me in the stomach.

"Hey, what about you and your bombshell body? You look like Marilyn Monroe!"

As I figured it would, the compliment made her preen like a cat.

"I try, I try. Speaking of that, does the color of my outfit in this picture make my boobs look too big?"

"…I'm kind of afraid to answer that…"

Even though I had brushed the issue aside with Cynthia, the fact that Bryce hadn't brought it up still tugged at me the next morning. I wasn't upset with him—he had a lot on his mind just like I did, what with his dad constantly beating him over the head with abuse about how he had failed him as a son. Rick Loski has to be the most pathetic, whiny, weasly man I've ever met, and I hated that he was making Bryce feel bad about his decisions, but there wasn't really much I could do besides listen to him and try to comfort him. It was so unfair that Mr. Loski's behavior was robbing us of our opportunities to have fun together. Bryce is a HUGE romantic, and on Valentine's Days past, he'd always come up with these ideas that would invariably sweep me off my feet, like going to see a play we'd studied in English class, or riding paddle boats and eating ice cream at the lake. It was sad that this Valentine's Day, which would probably be our last one together for the next four years, would come and go without any fanfare.

I was absorbed in these regretful thoughts when Bryce met me at my locker at the end of the day, and I remained practically silent all through our walk to his car. He didn't say much, either, but I noticed him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. When we got to the car, he nudged me affectionately.

"What gives? Usually you're yakking a mile a minute. This ain't the Juli I know." I couldn't bring myself to make a witty reply back, so I just smiled and shrugged.

"Dunno. I'm just…imagining castles in the sky, I guess."

"You sure? You looked sad."

"Nah, I'm not really sad. Just solemn."

He nodded, knowing me well enough not to press the matter further. A companionable silence reigned as we weaved through the traffic on the way to my house. I wondered if I should bring up Friday anyway. Maybe we could watch a movie together—

"You know Friday's Valentine's Day, right?"

My heart leaped at his words. He hadn't forgotten, after all!

"Actually, I had forgotten until Cynthia reminded me yesterday. Silly me, huh?"

He grinned. "I forgot about it too, but it was my _mom _who reminded me. Slightly more embarrassing. Anyway, I know you've got a lot going on, but I'd really like to do something together. I don't know how great it'll be this late in the game, but we can try, right?"

I looked into his beautiful, smiling face, and my heart skipped a beat.

"I could never turn down a date with Bryce Loski, hottest guy at school," I said with a wink.

His ears turned bright pink. "I don't know about that title, but I'll take that as a yes."

We tossed ideas at each other, but could think of nothing especially thrilling that didn't require reservations made or tickets bought long in advance. I was on the verge of suggesting we just lounge around my house and bake cookies together, but Bryce didn't want to give up.

"I'll pick you up Friday evening and we'll just see where the wind takes us."

"Hopefully not too far," I said, eyeing him suspiciously. He rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Oh come on, live a little, Juli!"

"Did I just hear Bryce Loski, the most sensible person I know, tell me to live a little?"

He stuck his tongue out. "Just trust me, okay?"

Friday couldn't come soon enough. When it finally did, I could barely concentrate in my classes all day, and the flowers and decorations that abounded didn't help at all. I smiled when I saw Cynthia and Eric exchanging valentines on the quad during lunch, and my smile grew even bigger when I saw Amanda laughing shyly with Anton, a foreign exchange student who had transferred to our high school last year. It reminded me of why Valentine's Day was one of my favorite holidays of the year—there was so much love going around, my heart felt ready to burst.

"Hey, cutie," Bryce murmured as he hugged me from behind. I sighed.

"It's so beautiful, isn't it? Everyone's so happy!"

"I would have to agree. Though, if you look a little to the right, I think you'll agree with me that the sight of Brandon Wilson and Jennifer Davis snogging like there's no tomorrow is slightly less beautiful."

He was right. "Eww, why'd you have to show me _that_?"

"A random sadistic whim. But actually, I didn't come over here to torture you. There's a slight change of plans. Can you change when I take you home and then we'll head out right after?"

"I guess so, but why are we leaving so early?"

"It's…um…well, I want it to be a surprise, but we need a while to get there. I promise you I'm not kidnapping you."

"I believe you, but what am I going to tell my parents? I don't think they'll want me to be out at night far from home."

"…I already told them where we're going."

My eyes widened in shock.

"Bryce Loski, this better be good—"

"Or you'll tie me to a rock and throw me into a lake. Trust me, you won't be disappointed!" He flashed me a mischievous grin, then proceeded to dig in to his lunch, not bringing the matter up again despite my exasperated attempts to get a straight answer out of him. After a while, I gave up. Whatever it was, hanging out with Bryce was my number one priority—even if he had apparently blabbed to my parents everything we'd be doing. I groaned as I imagined my parents prodding me with embarrassing questions. I just hoped it would be worth it.

* * *

><p>"You ready, Jules?"<p>

"I'll be down in a minute, dad! Tell Bryce I'm just trying to find my other sandal!"

"Try not to keep the poor boy waiting for too long, Julianna. He's got something pretty special planned!"

"I'm _trying!_"

My room was almost completely upset. Since I wasn't sure about the location, I'd decided to opt for my embroidered sandals rather than the heels I'd been planning to wear. All well and good, except for the fact that I hadn't worn them since last spring and had no idea where one of them was. I was a little frustrated with Bryce for not having told me sooner, but being a very style-unconscious boy, he probably didn't think about changing shoe plans. I spotted the shoe behind my bookshelf (to this day, I don't know how it got there) and grabbed it, then hastily grabbed my shawl and a pair of earrings off my dresser. I jabbed the studs into my ears as I ran down the stairs, worried that my delay might ruin whatever plan Bryce had cooked up, but my fears melted away when I walked straight into Bryce, who was leaning against the stairwell. He didn't look annoyed in the least, and when he looked down at me, his eyebrows flew up into an expression of shock. He let out a long, pleased whistle, and I blushed, which made him throw his head back in laughter.

"Sorry, Juli, I just can't help being appreciative of a lovely woman when I see one."

I raised an eyebrow. "And how many lovely women do you see on a daily basis?"

He pretended to think, and laughed again when I swatted him in the shoulder. "Just one, that I can think of." He pulled me into a tight hug. "You look so _beautiful_."

"Thanks," I whispered shyly. Bryce was the only person, besides my parents, who ever called me that, and I treasured it more than he'd ever know. "You look beautiful too."

"Beautiful, you say? I guess that's better than plain old 'hot,'" he said with a grin, but I could tell by the bashful look on his face that I'd really made him happy. He was wearing nothing more than a royal blue button-down shirt and black jeans, but somehow, the colors made his piercing blue eyes and black hair even more distinctive, giving him an almost unearthly glow. I shivered. Sometimes I had to wonder if someone who looked like him could even be real, much less _mine_.

We said a fond farewell to my parents and set off. The moment we hit the interstate highway, however, my heart began to beat faster. Something about this whole situation was making me realize that this was no normal date. A thousand thoughts whirred through my mind—where could he possibly be taking me? Why was he literally going out of his way to do all of this? Bryce saw the anxious look on my face and smiled, briefly reaching his hand out to squeeze mine.

"Don't be nervous. I guarantee you'll enjoy it."

The drive took several hours, which we filled by turning the car radio on as high as we could stand it and singing sloppily along to the likes of Britney Spears, N'Sync, My Chemical Romance, and rather incongruously, a mix tape of my favorite show tunes.

"Maybe THIS TIME, I'll WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN," I belted, uncaring of the fact that my ability to hold a tune was limited to the Happy Birthday song and Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star.

"Hey, Juli, I hate to interrupt your Liza Minnelli impression, but I thought you might like to know we're almost there."

I looked out the window and was met with the view of a coastline milling with people in the near-sunset glow, and the ocean stretching out just beyond that. At first, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. When the cognitive dissonance faded, I let out a high pitched, undignified, utterly euphoric squeal.

"OH MY GOSH, BRYCE! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU TOOK US TO THE BEACH! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!" I jumped up and down in my seat like a little kid getting ready to go on their first roller coaster ride. In a way, I _was_ a little kid again. My parents had taken me and my brothers to the beach twice, when I was a child, and I'd fallen in love with it. However, as time wore on and my family's financial situation tightened, trips to the beach had been out of the question. I always went on and on to Bryce about how I was determined to go back someday, and here we were.

It was the best gift I could have asked for.

Apparently, however, there was even more to come. After getting off the highway, we drove past the crowded beaches and onto a secluded strip of coast lined with elegant beach homes spaced far apart. To my shock and delight, this was where Bryce chose to pull off the road and park. I stared at him in disbelief.

"You're kidding me, right?"

In answer, he held up a set of house keys. "One of the few perks of having a family that lives and breathes to show off."

"This is officially the best day ever."

He snickered to himself. "Let's hope so."

As soon as I stepped out of the car, I ran through the sand, reveling in the reawakened sensation of sand giving way to small depressions with each step I made. The sunset was at its most splendid point, with the sky erupting in a dazzling array of oranges and reds that made the dark sea glimmer. When I reached the point where the waves crashed into the shore, I stood still in breathless awe at the beauty that surrounded me. Bryce, knowing my tendency to get caught up in nature, stood back and let me take everything in. It seemed like an eternity before I was finally ready to let Nature go and place my focus on the boy standing several feet away.

"This is so—so—I can't even describe it. Thank you _so much_, Bryce," I choked, my voice trembling with emotion. For once, he didn't brush aside my compliment with a sarcastic retort, acknowledging it with a simple, humble nod.

"So, what do you want to do first, swim or eat dinner?"

"Eat dinner, I guess, since I definitely can't swim in these clothes. But we'd have to drive a little ways back."

"And that, my friend, is where you're mistaken." He went to his trunk and pulled out a duffel bag and a picnic basket. "You can thank your mom for this. Your swimsuit and a change of clothes are in there," he said as he handed the duffel to me, "and we've got dinner covered in here. I think she said something about chicken and mashed potatoes? Whatever it is, it smells awesome. Mrs. Baker's a great cook."

"Since when have you and my mom been best friends?"

"Since, like, ever. She and I go way, way back—all the way back to when I was trying to get your attention back in middle school by calling you repeatedly and running around your house. Your dad and I have been pretty tight since then, too—in fact, he told me how to start a bonfire, in case you wanna do that."

I shook my head in utter disbelief.

"You are one of a kind, you know that?"

"I've been told on a few occasions."

Not wanting to abandon our fancy clothes so quickly, we opted for eating dinner first—not in the sand, like I was expecting, but on the kitchen table of Bryce's ritzy beach house. They only ever came here once a year, and I wondered how it was kept up so well—the beautiful sofas and carpets were pristine, and the glass panes of the big bay windows that opened out onto the verandah sparkled like new. According to Bryce, there was a maintenance company whose only business came from beachfront clients who wanted their houses spic and span year round, just in case they decided to drop by. It was an unbelievably luxurious lifestyle, but my slight envy was checked by my knowledge of how much this wealth had hurt Bryce. After a while, though, the newness wore off, and I was fully immersed in Bryce's company. I hadn't been wrong earlier—he was glowing with an emotion I couldn't identify, a deep excitement I'd never witnessed in him that grew with every passing hour.

After we polished off my mom's delicious food, we each went into separate bathrooms to change into our swim gear. I rooted around in my duffel bag and pulled out my suit. It was a drab one piece that was more suited to sports than a moonlit frolic with my boyfriend, but it would have to do. But as I slipped out of my dress, I realized that I might have another option. Underneath my dress, I'd chosen to wear my favorite set of pajamas, a wispy silk camisole with matching shorts that had been given to me by an aunt several years ago. I seldom wore them as underwear, but the smooth feeling of the fabric against my skin made me feel more confident and womanly whenever I did. I stared at my silk-clad figure in the gigantic mirror. The fabric skimmed softly over my body, hugging its curves and rises delicately. I tilted my head, feeling a sudden disconnect with my reflection. Who was the person standing before me? I was no longer plain Juli—slightly awkward, self-conscious, swinging between pretty and average depending on the day, never completely fitting into my skin. That girl had been replaced by a foreign creature who seemed lush and full and even, like Bryce had said, lovely. What Juli would Bryce see if he saw me in this? The thought made me tremble, and brought back the rising waves of feeling that had overtaken me years ago. Was this what it felt like to be…desirable? At the thought of this, my decision was made. I folded my swimsuit and dress and placed them into my bag with a soft smile on my face. Perhaps Bryce wasn't ready to go all the way, but I wanted to let him see what I'd seen in the mirror-the new person, the _whole _person, that I'd become.

When I walked down the steps that led to the beach house, I saw that Bryce was already swimming in the surf, his black hair dipping and ducking in and out of the dark water. When he spotted me, he swam to shore and ran to meet me, but as he got closer and closer, his expression changed from playfully energetic to stunned. I couldn't tell if this was a good or bad thing, and I immediately began to feel embarrassed, crossing my arms in front of my body in a pretty futile attempt at modesty.

"Wow. Your mom packed _that _for you? Remind me to thank her when we get home!"

I blushed, and was glad for the waning light of dusk that hid it. "Actually…this isn't my swimsuit. It's, um, a set of—I guess you could call it underwear, but I use it to sleep in—anyway, I was wearing it underneath my dress and I thought it looked…nicer. Is it okay? If it makes you uncomfortable, I can change." My blush was rising by the second, and I inwardly cursed myself for possibly spoiling what, up until now, had been a good night. But he didn't look uncomfortable at all—instead, a shy smile crept onto his face.

"No, no, it looks—geez, it looks _great_. I love it, I really do. You look very…" His voice faltered for a moment, but then he seemed to resolve himself. "Sexy. You are one sexy woman, Juli Baker."

I burst out laughing, which I probably shouldn't have done, considering it had probably taken all of his guts to even get the words out. The one word, really. It was the first time I had heard Bryce utter the word "sex" in relation to me since sophomore year. A small step, but definitely a step in the right direction. He rolled his eyes at me and grabbed my hand, tugging me towards the water. We dove in and playfully swam after each other and splashed water into each other's faces. It almost felt like a dance, a romantic _pas de deux_, with Bryce's body constantly slipping past mine. I could tell that something in our contact had changed, that the shy introduction of that fearful, wonderful s-word had charged the space between us with a heady magnetism, pulling us towards each other like opposing poles. _Does Bryce feel this too? _I wondered, perplexed by his sudden sensuality. On top of this, the slightest touch was magnified underwater, making me ache with longing like never before. I wanted all of Bryce Loski, and for the first time, I began to wonder how much longer I could wait.

We climbed out of the water after we'd exhausted ourselves—well, I say climbed, but really I was perched on Bryce's back with my arms and legs wrapped around his torso, the remnant of a failed attempt at wrestling. I sighed into the curve of his neck. The twilight had darkened into true night, and the stars had come out, letting me know that our evening would soon have to come to an end.

"I don't want to go home," I said petulantly.

"Who says we're going home right now?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, we can't stay all night. What would my parents think?"

"Probably that we made violent, passionate love."

"Don't joke about that! Even if we were going to, I wouldn't want my parents to know!"

"Okay then. Let's say that we did do it. If we went home right after, your parents wouldn't have that much reason to be suspicious. What's a couple more hours? Maybe we got on the wrong road for a little while. No one would be the wiser," he said, wiggling his eyebrows deviously.

"I guess so, but that's not gonna happen, so we might as well just go home."

"Do you want it to happen?"

I momentarily forgot how to breathe.

"What…what do you mean?"

Wordlessly, he set me down on the ground, turned to face me, and kissed me so intensely that my head started to spin. My pulse fluttered, my knees gave way, and I melted into him, supported by his warm embrace. I didn't know whether to laugh or shout or cry. I'd been waiting for this moment for so long, I'd almost stopped believing it would ever happen. However, despite my euphoria, my rational mind was still doubtful, and protective of Bryce. What had made him change his mind all of a sudden? I didn't want him to feel pressured just because I'd worn "sexy" underwear.

"Are you sure about this?"

He frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Remember that talk we had a long time ago? And how we never actually brought it up again?"

He groaned. "Ah, yeah, I'd rather not remember that. God, I was so awkward."

"Don't you remember? You said you didn't feel comfortable with sex. And for all I know, you still don't. And I don't want you to do something _you_ don't want to just because—because of what I'm wearing." I looked down in slight shame, imagining myself as a painted lady of the night seducing a monk.

To my surprise, he laughed. Well, guffawed was more like it.

"You think I just said that because of your outfit? Oh, geez…Juli, you obviously don't see the effect you have on me. I dream about you practically every night. Clothed and unclothed." His unexpected confession, and the sheer boldness of it, made me tremble with a fiery blush. So I hadn't been alone in my thoughts. The idea was giddying. "I've felt that way for a _long _time," he continued, "but I wasn't ever ready because I was afraid—afraid I couldn't—I wouldn't be able to—see, you're so expressive and free about things, but that's really hard for me. I'm sure you know that already. But with everything that's happened, I realize I can't just hold everything back like that. And I want this, with you, so much, you have no idea, so I just…" He stammered, looking into my eyes as if he could find the words he was searching for in me.

"Decided to stop being afraid?"

He exhaled in relief. "Yeah."

I felt my pulse thrum in my throat, nearly choking me with emotions that even I, as talkative as I am, couldn't find the words to express. I pulled his face closer to mine, and as the moonlight illuminated the slight tremble of his jaw, I realized that he'd put his whole heart in my hands. "_Thank you_," I whispered softly, because it was the only thing I could think of that came close to what I felt. Then, just as softly, I brought my lips to his. He responded with a shudder that traveled his entire body, and I knew right away that our kisses would never be the same, that instead of unspoken longing and careful skirting around the edges, we would finally understand what it meant to be two halves of one whole.

* * *

><p>The bedroom was airy and spacious, with huge windows that spilled silvery moonbeams into the room. This only vaguely registered in my consciousness, however, as I was more concerned about keeping my breathing steady so as not to faint from anticipation. He set me down gently on the fluffy, cocoon-like bed, and I let out an involuntary sigh. Every inch of my body was alive, sparking with an electricity that came from a place I hadn't even known existed. Neither of us knew exactly where to put our hands, so we put them everywhere, exploring each other's damp limbs with a desperation that was entirely new to us. I had lost my fear, too, of pushing him too much, going too far—I rolled over so that I was straddling him and arched my body against his with abandon, shuddering at the feeling of his skin against mine.<p>

"God, _Juli," _he groaned, "You're so much better at this than I am."

"I guess I'm a fast learner," I said with a grin. He grinned back, shaking his head at me. After another deep kiss, he pulled away from me again.

"Do you mind if we get out of some of this wet clothing? Wouldn't want to catch a cold…"

"No, we wouldn't want that."

We both sat up and faced each other squarely. This was the point of no return, and we both knew it. After what seemed like ages, Bryce brought his hands to the sides of my camisole and slowly peeled it over my head. After it was fully off, he kept his eyes trained on mine, and I could see his Adam's apple trembling.

"Bryce, you can look at my breasts. It's _okay_." Gulping, he tore his eyes from mine and hazarded a glance at my chest. His eyes widened, and I wanted to laugh at his expression of childlike awe, but to save his dignity, I held it in.

"Those are…wow." He stared a little longer, hungrily taking in the sight that I had always thought was rather unremarkable, then flicked his gaze back up to mine. "You're fucking _gorgeous, _Juli."

I'd never imagined that ice blue eyes could look so warm.

He gestured with his hands, as if to say, "Can I?" In answer, I laced my fingers with his and brought our hands together to touch the tips of my breasts. At the sensation, both of us gasped. I had never imagined a feeling so perfect. His palms cupped my skin reverently, as if he were laying his hands on a sacred object. I wished for a moment that he'd hold me like that forever.

"Your skin is cold," I whispered breathlessly.

"Yours isn't."

My eyelids fluttered as he let his fingers explore the achingly tender skin of my nipples. Oh, what this boy could do to me! I watched his absorbed concentration through half lidded eyes, and sucked in a breath. Did he know how beautiful, how incandescent he was making me feel? A wave of tenderness swept over me, and I rose to my knees to cradle his head close to my heart. As I lay my cheek on his mop of wet, shining black hair that smelled like the sea and gently combed my fingers through it, he took the opportunity to place long, sweet kisses where his hands had just been, pulling me ever closer by the soft flesh of my waist.

"Oh, Bryce, _please,_" I whimpered, not even sure of what I was asking for.

"Please what?" he questioned, his breath hot against my skin.

"Please, _please _keep doing everything you're doing."

"I wasn't planning on stopping."

"Bryce?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

I felt him sigh. "You have no idea how much I love hearing you say that."

"I wasn't planning on stopping."

Soon the rest of our garments made their way off, and the newness of that first, full embrace was more thrilling than I'd imagined even in my most blush-inducing dreams. Both of us were somewhat shy, but shyness quickly took a backseat to an instinctual drive in each of us to explore and to feel, to be as close as we possibly could, to be completely consumed. Like usual, I made no attempt to hide the fact that I wanted him, _badly, _and it seemed like no matter how much of him I touched, I couldn't get enough. As Bryce twisted and turned around me, however, I saw something in him that was completely new—something fierce and fiery that had never been there before. Finally, he was no longer repressing his desires, or being a passive observer of life. This Bryce stroked and pulled and kissed and sucked as if he had a _right _to feel, a _right _to take what he wanted. Yet through it all, he tried his best to do whatever he thought would make _me _feel happy, responding to every sound I made with a passion that was almost violent in its intensity. I didn't think it was possible to love a person more than you already did, but that night, as I was lifted to a hazy cloud of ecstasy, my love for Bryce compounded when he, for the first time, let his whole self be free. And being loved _by_ Bryce? It was the closest possible thing I could imagine to being in heaven.

There was pain that night. Discomfort. Awkwardness. I'd be lying if I left all of that out. Yet I was filled with the distinct certainty that it couldn't have been more perfect. Everything gross or dirty that I'd been told about sex seemed to fade out of my mind—they couldn't have known, those people, what it felt like to experience this with someone you cared so deeply for. Even after we'd disentangled ourselves and lay in each other's arms, breathlessly coming down from the exhilarating high of being together, I felt cleansed, as if I'd been thrust into a fire and had all my impurities of shame and jealousy and lack of self-esteem burned out of me.

"We gotta get going," Bryce murmured as he ran his fingers along the length of my upper arm, which was shiny with sweat. The look in his eyes told me he didn't want to get going at all.

"Can't we stay here?" I pleaded, snuggling closer into his side.

"Your parents…?" He was right. Earlier tonight I'd recoiled in horror at even the idea of my parents knowing we'd had sex. But as I stared up at him, I realized that I didn't care. The s-word had lost its fearful power over me. I wouldn't mar the sacredness of this night for anything, no matter how it looked.

"It doesn't matter. I want to stay here with you."

He sighed. "Even if you're okay with it, I doubt they'd be too happy with me if we got back in the morning."

"They'd probably be unhappier if we died in a car accident because some drunk driver was on the road, or because you fell asleep at the wheel." He raised his eyebrows, clearly not having considered either of these outcomes, then dropped his face into his hands.

"You're right. I guess I'll just have to accept the fact that my ass is toast."

"Hey, if anyone's ass is toast, it's both of ours."

He smiled. "Glad I won't be dancing on hot coals alone."

I paused for a moment, thinking of my mom and dad, their adoration for each other written clearly in every gesture, every touch.

"I have a feeling they'll be more understanding than we think."

Before long, I was yawning, which Bryce snickered at—it was fairly obvious that my exhaustion stemmed from my unbridled enthusiasm, but I had no intention of ever reigning that in. He pulled me close, and just as I thought of how wonderful it would be to have a Bryce pillow every night, he murmured into my ear.

"Sex is awesome. We should do it again sometime."

I was too tired to answer, too tired to even turn around to see the grin that I knew was on his face, but I clung to him in the last vestiges of desire, filled with a delicious thrill at the thought of the next time. And the next. And the next.

There have always been a million reasons why I'm glad to have Bryce in my life.

Now, however, I think there are a million and one.


End file.
